Firsts
by Avid fangirl for life
Summary: My take on the first time Patsy noticed something had changed between her and Delia, and then the first time either of them mentioned it, and then their first kiss.
You're not sure exactly when things changed, but you can pinpoint the exact moment in which you noticed things were different. You're pretty sure you'll remember that day for the rest of your life. You think it must be impossible to forget the sudden burst of feeling, of warmth in your chest. The stirring of butterflies, the hitch in both of your breaths.

You and Delia were sat in your usual smoking spot, the one hidden from Matron's prying eyes. Lamenting the shortness of your breaks, smiling over how lucky you were to have breaks that happened to coincide. She'd started off on a tangent, rambling in a way that you loved to listen to. You'd sat there, listening and flicking ash from the end of your cigarette, utterly enraptured with the lilt of her voice and the way her face changed as it flickered between expressions.

You'd found yourself unable to look away, until her words registered. Her mother had written to her, she told you, to tell her that her cousin was engaged. A nice young lad, she'd said, handsome and strong and stoically Welsh. Her Mother had asked her whether or not there were any chaps in London that had taken her fancy. Delia had yet to write back, but as the two of you sat there she'd said that she was half tempted to find a man and get it over and done with.

You had looked away at that, panic setting in. You'd thought, or so you told yourself, that it had been because you didn't want to lose your best friend, your only friend really. The thought of Delia marrying someone made you feel nauseous. The thought of Delia meeting someone, any one made you want to cry. In the moment that you looked away, you knew you were being selfish.

Utterly and awfully and horribly selfish, but you couldn't seem to help yourself. The though of Delia no longer having time for you, no longer wanting you around made dread snake its way down your spine. In the moment you looked away, you watched a future without Delia flash before your eyes and it seemed oddly empty.

It takes you a second to realise she's stopped speaking and you know she must be looking at you in that concerned way of hers. You can imagine the crease between her eye brows and the crinkles at the corner of her mouth, formed only when she frowns ever so slightly. Your heart picks up and you turn to look at her.

You're immediately surprised because the frown isn't there, not at all. It's quite the opposite in fact. There's something in her face that speaks of so much happiness and the way she's looking at you, almost makes you think that you are the cause. There is something in her eyes that you don't understand, something that you can't quite name. The way she's looking at you makes you feel warm and your stomach seems to jump within you, and your heart picks up, as if it's trying to hammer it's way out of your chest.

There is something in the look that tells of a secret, well kept and for no one but you. You've never had a person look at you in such a way before, as if you matter so entirely to them before, and certainly not by a friend. You file the look away for later, because if you're honest with yourself it will be a moment that you will dissect and analyse and pick apart for as long as you possibly can.

The first time either of you mentioned the change was late one evening in the Nurse's home. The pair of you were locked away in Delia's bedroom, talking softly and passing the evening with just each other's company. You hated to admit that these were your favourite sort of moments. The ones that seemed almost stolen, locked away from the rest of the world.

The two of you could be yourselves here. You could acknowledge whatever it was that was building between you. You could acknowledge the quiet swell, the hum of feelings between you without having to fear prying eyes seeing all. Neither of you had said anything, not wanting to disturb the balance whatever was happening between you.

It's as it's starting to get late, and Delia's talking about yet another man that her Mam wrote to her about. You don't want to admit it to yourself, and you would never say it out loud, but it bothers you. So of course, you wait for her to finish and spend the time trying not to chew on your lower lip. As soon as she stops talking, you politely excuse yourself for the evening. After all, it's getting late and if you'd normally stay later, well Delia won't say anything.

She smiles at you warmly as the two of you say goodnight, and you're sure that there's something else behind her eyes. Something in the middle of hesitation and longing. Your hand is in the door handle and your just about to turn it when she speaks.

"Pats" you turn your head and wait for her to continue "you know that I don't want some Welsh lad that my Mam's set her cap at, don't you?" You nod because deep in your chest, far below your breast bone, you do know that. You know that she doesn't want a chap like that, however nice. You know what she wants by now, you're not entirely dense and you want the same things after all, but this is the first time either of you had said anything. Of course it had been Delia, bold and brave Delia. You leave her room with a certainty you hadn't held before and it's both freeing and restricting all at once. It makes you feel as if you can breathe and as if you're suffocating and you're not quite sure how that works.

The first time either of you does anything about whatever it is building between you, you surprise yourself. For once, you find it is not Delia stumbling forward in the dark, but rather yourself. It's unfamiliar territory but you take the plunge anyway, and you find that it was more than worth it.

It's night again, and you're in Delia's room. It's late, so much later than the two of you normally stay up, but tomorrow is both of your days off and you can't quite bear to pull yourself away from her yet. The whole building is quiet around you, so silent in the night that the two of you have to muffle your laughter. You're not quite sure what you're laughing about, but it's intoxicating and the pair of you laugh until you find tears running down your cheeks.

You both pause to catch your breath, chests heaving and smiles still in place. You're sat side by side, slanted to face each other and almost of its own accord your hand finds its way to Delia's cheek to wipe away the drying tear tracks. Your hand cups the curve of her jaw, thumb settling against her cheek, and you marvel at the softness of her skin, how it feels beneath your fingers.

Your eyes lock with hers, and you hold your breath. In that moment her eyes are so deep, you can see the internal battle waging war in her mind. You know very well, because it's exactly what's going on in your head. Still, for once you think fuck it. You lean forwards, so slowly that Delia must realise your intention. You give her time to back away, in case you've been entirely wrong all this time.

Your lips brush against hers hesitantly before you pull back. She breathes out sharply, breath catching and hitching on its way before it ghosts over your face. Her eyes lock with yours again, something you've never seen before shining in them, before your lips meet for the second time and your eyes snap closed.

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feel of Delia's lips against yours. You kiss until you're both desperate for breath, and only then do you separate, but your forehead rests against hers and it feels familiar and wonderful and very, very right.

You're not sure when things changed but after you noticed the difference, you made note of the changes between you, because they were precious. You don't think it will ever be possible for you to forget them.


End file.
